Wings & Water
by GrandFinaleigh
Summary: ACOWAR Spoilers. One-Shot. Cassian and Nesta share an intimate moment. Days or even hours after the end of book 3.


Cassian's boots thudded down the wooden floors of the town house, empty glass in hand, ice clinking softly at the bottom. He stopped mid-step outside of a bedroom door at the sound of staggered breaths, attempting to silence its own tears.

He drummed his knuckles lightly on the polished wood of the door frame.

"Go away." Nesta's voice was a whisper of its usual wind.

Cassian stared down into the melted contents of his glass and tried to rationalize with himself the merits of turning away now and going to bed. Anything else he might do would only be trouble. Best case scenario.

So of course, he opened the door.

Nesta's room was tidy and dark. Though the hour was late, her bed was still empty and perfectly made. A thread of light shown on the bedroom carpet from underneath the bathroom door.

Cassian set his glass down on the mantelpiece and cleared his throat. This was only to alert her to his presence. He did not wait for any protest on her part that might undermine his serious lack of judgment as he pulled this door open too.

Nesta was sitting on a wooden stool in front of the bath. At least three different pails of water were scattered around her, a large towel tucked around her trembling frame. Her hair was down, and wet in spots. Her curls were combed out, and she was squinting furiously into a hand towel as the shampoo gathered into her red-rimmed eyes.

"Get out."

"Nesta." His voice was pleading.

"You should have brought a camera. You could gawk at this forever."

He ignored her.

"Is there something wrong with your tub?"

"N-No."

"Then why-"

His question was interrupted by a sharp cry as more soap burned through her vision.

"I can't rinse the soap out. All I wanted was clean hair."

He watched her trembling hands rinse a comb off into the nearest pail, before she brought it up to pull through another section of hair.

"Well, you'll have fewer problems if you just dump the water out over your head." Cassian pointed out.

"I can't do that." She snapped. Not out of cruelty. Fear.

"Oh."

"I told you to get out. You have no business seeing me like this."

Cassian pulled a long cotton robe from its hook on the door and helped Netsa thread each of her arms into the sleeves while she held her towel up.

"I'll leave when I know you're okay." He tested the water in the nearest bucket. It had all gone mercilessly cold. He tipped them into the tub one by one.

At the pedestal sink the water was adjusted to a pleasantly warm stream.

"Let me help you."

Nesta faltered. To her credit, she did try. She braced her arms on the sink and leaned in, but before one drop of water could hit her she flung herself back again.

"No. That's not right. I can't do it."

Cassian pressed his lips together into a line. He drug the stool over to the sink and rolled a towel up onto the rim.

He patted the seat of the stool – beckoning for her to hop up.

"You don't have to look down into the basin. You can lean back, and keep your eyes on me."

"Who will wash my hair?"

"I will."

Nesta took his hand as he helped her onto the stool.

"Think you can keep your eyes on the task at hand?" She asked as she held the top of her robe together.

A laugh caught in Cassian's throat. "If I see something I haven't seen before, I'll throw some money at it."

Too horrified to give an ample retort Nesta leaned back so that her neck rested on the towel. Her heart beat so fast in her chest that Cassian could hear the erratic pounding as he pushed her hair through the water. Her dark gold curls slid through his fingers like silk as he washed the soap away from her eyes and face.

His eyes did wander to the top of the robe, but were led back all too quickly by a glare of her own. He held her gaze with as much tenderness as he used tending to her locks, gently brushing his fingers through them.

This was the most she had ever let him touch her. This was the most vulnerable he had ever seen her.

At last he turned the water off and wrung what he could from her hair. She leaned up, wrapping what hair she could into the towel.

"Thank you." She said quietly.

Not to be outdone by her display of trust or the sea of emotion hanging between them he said, "Anytime."

The admiration she had for him might as well have been standing under its own bucket of water as he continued with, "My bathing services are available around the clock. Whatever you want cleaned. I offer sponge baths. _Tongue_ baths."

She had heard enough and was now forcing him out of the bathroom and bedroom as fast as she could. But still he continued.

"Currently, I'm offering a special on breasts. Tit for tat. And let me say, Nesta, a job like yours would earn you A LOT of tat."

 _WHAM!_

The door slammed in his face.

Nesta crawled up onto her bed once she was sure he was gone, and pulled the towel down from her hair and tossed it into the floor.

She could feel the ghost of his touch in her hair, on her scalp. It was enough to make her mouth go dry.

There was another knock at the door followed by a pitiful, "I left my cup."

Nesta stood and gathered the glass from the mantelpiece. She tiptoed to the door and pulled it open a crack.

Her gaze met with Illerian leathers and strayed up to a pair of big brown eyes.

She offered a coy smile and opened the door a bit wider.


End file.
